


Pencils and Paper

by snugglebumps



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, i think im gonna stop updating it tho ive kind of lost interest, if lots of people like it tho imma try to get some more chapters in, im crying, ooh and follow me on tumblr @butterygiggles hehehe, this is so cliched and typical but you know what it was fun to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:04:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5715364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snugglebumps/pseuds/snugglebumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levy's sick and tired of always being surrounded by the same empty faces every day. Until a mysterious stranger shows up and makes her question everything...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of rushed voices echo in Levy’s ears.

It’s like this every day.

Crowds and crowds of nameless faces, flapping lips, empty words.

Shiny linoleum hallways, tapping shoes, glass windows smeared with foggy fingerprints.

Levy can’t stand it.

“Levyyy!”

Her vision is obscured by a cloud of blonde hair and the smell of strawberry shampoo.

“Lucy,” Levy laughs, stumbling.

Lucy Heartfilia grins wide, all pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. Her books are slung over her shoulder in a tote bag. With her neatly ironed uniform and shiny shoes, she’s the picture of health.

“You came to school, Levy!” Lucy exclaims, clutching the other girl’s shoulders with a surprising strength. “I didn’t think you’d show!”

Levy forces a smile. “Yeah, well. What am I supposed to do at home?”

Lucy’s smile fades.

“You aren’t looking too good, Levy,” she says, concern creeping into her voice. “Is everything okay ?”

“Everything is fine and dandy,” says Levy brightly. “I think I’m just coming down with a cold.” She sniffs to add emphasis.

Lucy doesn’t look convinced, but is interrupted by the loud clanging of the school bell.

“We should get to class,” she says reluctantly. Levy nods and follows her bobbing blonde head through the hallways.

-

“... And through this, we can see that Lee was trying to show the coexistence of good and evil. This involves exploring the nature of human beings, and seeing whether there’s an essential good, or ..”

Levy’s eyes are heavy. The sound of her teacher’s steady voice echoes through the class, a comforting type of background music.

“Levy McGarden!”

“The answer is A!” Levy cries, arms shooting forward. Her books clatter noisily to the floor, pens and pencils rolling every which way.

The class erupts into snickers, prodding Levy’s ears like needles.

She feels her cheeks redden in response.

“Levy, please pay attention,” Ms. Ur sighs. “This unit is important.”

“I’m sorry,” Levy whispers, trying to collect all loose papers that fell onto the floor without making too much noise.

“Now, then,” Ms. Ur says. “Take out your notebooks. Write a couple paragraphs on the topic we just discussed, and make sure you hand them in after class.”

Everything is quiet except for the subdued rustling of paper.

The thin blue lines on her notebook seem to blink weakly up at Levy as she flips to a clean page.

What creativity is involved in things like this? Levy thinks venomously to herself. In what situation will I be told to do these kinds of assignments? This isn’t English, this is-

A heavy knocking at the door cuts through the thick silence.

Ms. Ur looks surprised, then rushes to open it.

Erza Scarlet, a senior, is standing at the door.

“This is Gajeel Redfox,” she says. “I was told to escort him to this class.”

A tall boy enters the class. His presence is loud and obtrusive: unwavering gaze, piercings down the bridge of his nose, inky black hair in a messy ponytail.

He makes Levy want to crawl into her backpack and never come out.

“Uh, yes,” says Ms. Ur. “I was told about this and I- I seem to have forgotten. A-Alright, well, Gajeel, I think we can seat you over there in the back, next to Jet, yes?”

Jet, a pale redhead, cowers under Gajeel’s penetrating gaze.

He strolls purposefully down the aisles of the desks, chewing loudly on a wad of gum. As he walks by Levy to his desk, his hand knocks against her desk.

Levy squeals.

Gajeel looks right at her and snorts.


	2. Chapter 2

The window is cold against Levy’s temple.

If she listens closely she can hear the soft pattering of rain, like tiny fists beating glass. The figures on the other side of it are faceless in the downpour, smudges of colour between the grey.

“Levy!”

She looks up, startled. Lucy sits down heavily beside her, ponytailed hair dripping water from the tips. She smells like mint.

“I thought you gave up on the bus,” Levy says, laughing. Lucy snorts.

“I was late this morning. Besides-” She gestures to the window.

“Yeah.”

Their hushed conversation is interrupted by a piercing shout.

“Luce!”

Pink-haired Natsu Dragneel clatters noisily down the aisle, settling down in the seat right across from Levy and Lucy.

The latter’s cheeks go pink.

“Hello, Natsu.”

He grins and dangles his arms down over the rubbery seat. Levy marvels at the way his entire being seems to quiver with energy: hands always moving, feet always tapping. Words tumble out of his mouth riotously, but every phrase is confident, certain.

Levy can practically feel the heat of Lucy’s blush as the two of them talk, a teasing smile always playing at Natsu’s lips, fumbling fingers in Lucy’s lap.

Levy sighs inwardly.

The bus screeches to a halt in front of Fiore Academy, and the students file out of the buses and into the cold air. The inside of the school is blessedly warm.

Levy catches a glimpse of herself in a classroom window: straggly blue hair hanging limp despite the yellow headband trapping it in place, pale cheeks, downturned mouth.

An unpleasant feeling scratches the inside of her stomach.

Lucy’s concerned gaze follows her as she ducks into English class, waving half heartedly.

“Alright, class,” says Ms. Ur too brightly, clapping her hands as if in front of a group of children. “Today is indeed a gloomy day, but let’s try not to slack off too much, alright?”

The class choruses a monotone “Yes, Mrs. Ur,” in response.

Soon the room slips into silence once again, the scratching of chalk against blackboard the only sound echoing through the room.

Levy feels her eyes get heavy.

A sudden banging knock at the door makes everyone jump in their seats.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Ur gasps, clutching her chest. She drops the chalk and runs to open the door.

Gajeel Redfox stands there; ruffled uniform, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder, hands stuffed in pockets.

“Oi,” he grunts in greeting. His voice is rough and low like sand paper, staring at the class from under dark brows.

“You’re late,” Mrs. Ur says sternly. “It’s only your second day, so I’ll cut you some slack. Well, hurry, now. Your seat is beside Jet.”

Gajeel makes no move to hurry. He strolls down the orderly aisles between desk rows, his brown eyes staring forward. Levy can feel him looking right at her as he passes her seat; he smells like rain and metal.

She ducks her head, but as she does so, she feels something in her chest.

“Right,” Mrs. Ur says breathily, clapping her hands again. “Now, where were we?”

-

A watery sun peeks through mounds of grey cloud.

Levy slings her backpack over her shoulder as she walks home. The trees are moving to the soft breeze, and the air is refreshing in her parched lungs, tickling her cheeks and neck.

Everything is quiet except for the quiet chirping of birds and the sound of Lucy’s footsteps beside her own.

“Levy, tell me the truth,” Lucy says suddenly, gripping Levy’s shoulder and stopping her in her path. “What’s happening to you? You’re not usually like this. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Levy forces a laugh.

“Don’t worry about me, Lu,” she reassures, gripping Lucy’s hands in her own. She’s surprised to see tears glistening in her clear blue eyes. “I’m just really tired, is all.”

Lucy blinks furiously, but the sudden pattering of rain makes her look up.

“We should get home,” Levy says gently, and the two of them pull up their hoods and run, dodging raindrops.  
They arrive at the intersection.

“Go home, Lu,” Levy says, when her friend seems to falter in her steps. “I’ll be okay.”

Lucy blinks again, but a clap of thunder and a spark of lightning make her jump. Levy waves and runs, not looking back.

Lucy’s right, Levy thinks to herself. What’s going on? What’s wrong with me?

The rain starts to come harder: everything is obscured by needles of water. The trees are bending backwards, leaves crashing into each other in a cacophony of sounds.

As she runs, Levy can see a stooped figure standing against the fence lining the sidewalk.

It’s Gajeel. The white dress shirt of his uniform clings to his coffee skin, and strands of black hair stick to his cheeks. He’s shivering.

He stares at her as she stumbles by, daring her to say something.

She only runs.


	3. Chapter 3

The wooden paintbrush is cool in Levy’s hand.  


She stares at the white canvas in front of her, intimidating in its blankness. 

The room around her is quiet; the only sounds are that of the creaking of chairs and brushes against paper. It smells like wood and paint; it is art class, after all. 

As the rain beats relentlessly against the window next to her, her mind drifts back to a certain time walking in that downpour, of sodden hair and coffee skin and soaking shirts.

The sound of shattering glass shakes Levy out of her reverie.

Her teacher’s tired voice cuts through the silence.

“Wendy, clean that up,” Ms. Strauss calls from the front of the class where she’s lounging. The small freshman stands up, cheeks blazing, and sweeps up the broken mug with shaking hands. 

Levy dips her paintbrush in a pot of blue paint and sweeps the bristles over the canvas.

A child could do a better line than that. 

She sighs and turns the brush in her hands. It feels awkward there; it doesn’t sit quite right in her palm. Her fingers feel stubby and short trying to twine them around the wood. 

She’d much rather be holding a pencil, slim and warm, scratching small, controlled words into her notebook.

“Damn,” Levy mutters to herself. “Why did I take this class anyway?”

The loud ringing signifying the start of lunch echoes through the hallways.

“Alright, class,” calls Ms. Strauss in her weak voice. “Don’t forget to hand in your blind contours tomorrow, and-” 

Not bothering to listen, Levy quickly cleans up her barely used canvas and paints, stuffs her books in her bag, and runs out of the art room before anyone else. The hallway is still filled with people.

They jostle her shoulder from every direction, glazed eyes staring straight ahead, no apologies, no assurances. 

Everyone’s so tall. Levy can barely see. 

Just as she turns the corner, she slams into a shoulder, reeling backwards from the impact. The arm is stiff, hard with muscle. 

Her bag is on the floor, books scattered around her, getting stepped on by clumsy feet. 

Gajeel. 

He snorts as he strides past her, burly arm brushing against hers for half a second. His hair swipes at her face, and then he’s gone, swallowed up by the crowd.

Her books lie around her, speckled with shoeprints. 

She swallows hard, gathers her them, and strides away with as much poise as she can muster. 

-

“Who did this?”

Lucy’s voice is loud.

“I just dropped them, Lucy, stop worrying,” Levy reaches for the book in Lucy’s hand. The pages are tattered and smeared with mud. 

“What are you talking about? You were pushed. Besides, you’re going to have to pay the damage fees, and-“

“Lucy,” Levy says firmly, grabbing the book from her, “I’ll figure it out. Please. Your fussing is only making me more tired.”

Lucy’s blue eyes are indignant, but a screeching sound from the bus’s tires tells them that their stop has arrived. 

As Levy walks home, cold wind biting at her hands and neck, the same face keeps flashing before her.

Dark, frightening eyes.

A derisive snort.

Hands that could shatter bone.

She shivers.


	4. Chapter 4

The chalk figures on the board swim across Levy’s vision. 

Her math teacher’s voice melts into the background, soothing music stroking her ears. She can feel her chin slipping off her palm, but everything’s liquid. She’s so tired.

“Levy!”

Stinging pain shoots through her elbows as they bang on the sides of the desk.

Mr. Dreyar crosses his arms.

“Levy, there’s still half an hour left of class,” he says resignedly. “Hang in there, okay?”

She nods, cheeks burning red.

Somehow, she survives, and she almost collapses in relief when the sound of the school bell cuts through the air. 

Levy is nearly out the door when Mr. Dreyar calls her back. 

“Levy, can I have a word with you?”

No, she wants to yell. No, leave me be, I want to go home. But she presses her lips together in a feeble excuse for a smile and walks back in the room.

Mr. Dreyar sits at his desk, a stack of papers in his hand. His blonde hair is ruffled and his eyes look as tired as Levy’s. But he still smiles when he sees her.

“I know, you want to leave,” he says. “Just bear with me, okay?”

Levy nods quickly. 

He pulls out a sheet of paper from the stack in one hand. Levy’s small writing covers the page. It’s peppered with red checkmarks. 

“Levy, you hardly ever participate in class, and half the time you’re not even listening to me when I talk. But all your tests have perfect scores. It’s as if- as if you know the material   
already.”

Levy shakes her head.

“No, I just remember things,” she says. Mr. Dreyar laughs. 

“Well, whatever it is, it seems to be working,” he says. “I have a proposition for you.”

Levy’s heart immediately speeds up, and not in a good way.

“Right now, your report card marks’ pretty low because of the stuff I mentioned before: you never participate, you don’t listen, and you don’t do your homework. However, it’s obvious you know what you’re doing.”

Levy nods tentatively. 

“So, I’m offering you a deal. I have a student in another class who’s in need of some tutoring. I think you’re the perfect one to give it to him.”

She can’t breathe.

“Hold up,” Mr. Dreyar says. “If you do this, I can guarantee your mark will increase by at least five percent. Besides, I spoke to some of your teachers, and I don’t think you’re too   
busy with many extracurriculars, right?”

She nods imperceptibly.

“Levy, I think this is a great opportunity for you,” he says earnestly. “You get extra credit, you have something to do your extra time, and you’re going to learn in the process.”

Levy clutches her bag with her hands. Everything he’s saying is true. But ...

“C-Could I have some time to think about it?”

“Of course. Stay a while after class tomorrow to tell me what you think, all right?”

Levy nods again.

“Thanks. Then, tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

She bolts out the door.

-

“You think I should do it?”

“I told you, Levy, I think it’s a great idea!”

Levy can’t help but feel a little lighter. Lucy’s enthusiasm is infectious. 

The air is cold, but Levy’s hands are warm in her mittens. The sky is grey, and the sound of a lone bird singing echoes through the empty roads.

“I’d much rather go straight home and write, though,” Levy says, twisting her hands together.

Her room flashes before her eyes: soft pink sheets tangled at her feet, that familiar slant of buttery light slipping in from the thin window, papers in her hands, inky smears on her   
fingers.

“You need to step out of your comfort zone, Lev,” Lucy cries. “So many good things could come out of this. Think about it. You ace math. You meet new people. You-“

A laugh forces its way out Levy’s lips. 

“Alright, alright,” she says, lightly slapping Lucy’s arm. “Whatever makes you happy, Luce.”

And Lucy’s answering smile brightens Levy’s heart.

-

“So, you came to a decision?”

Mr. Dreyar looks at Levy expectantly.

“Yes,” Levy breathes, clutching her backpack straps tightly. “I-I think I’ll do it.”

Her teacher grins. 

“I’m so glad you decided to,” he says, shuffling the papers in his hands. “This experience will help you grow.”

Levy laughs uncomfortably. 

 

“Well, since today will be your first day on the, well, job, I called your student here after class. Gajeel? Can you come in?”

The sound of that name sends Levy’s heart crashing down to her feet.

Gajeel Redfox walks into the room, pushing the door open with his fingers. His jacket is slung over a broad shoulder, and his inky black hair is pulled into a loose ponytail. 

His eyes make Levy want to crawl underneath her desk.

“Gajeel, meet Levy. Levy, meet Gajeel. You two will be spending a lot of time together for the rest of the three months!”


	5. Chapter 5

Hushed whispers cloak the atmosphere like a stifling blanket.

Levy’s hands are sweating underneath the wooden table, and the zipper of her jacket cuts uncomfortably into her neck.

She wants to leave.

Gajeel is staring at her from across the table, his gaze burning holes into her forehead. She grabs a pencil and jabs it towards him.

“Y-you try,” she stutters. She lifts the textbook and drops it in front of him, the spine making an uncomfortably loud sound as it bangs against the wood. 

The people around her give her dirty looks.

Gajeel looks down at the textbook, snorts, and drops his gaze to the glowing screen of his phone.

Levy sighs inwardly. The air in the library is stiflingly hot, and being surrounded by shelves makes her feel claustrophobic. Her head hurts.

“Just try,” she says, trying to sound enthusiastic. “I already explained how to do it, so-”

“No,” he says. His voice is low and throaty, and Levy feels a tingle run down her spine.

It’s the first time she’s heard him talk.

“We still have ten minutes,” she says quietly, wringing her arms. “I know you don’t want to do this, but-”

He doesn’t bother looking up from his phone, his dark face illuminated by its neon light.

Levy feels an inexplicable surge of anger crawl up her insides.

“Just do the goddamn question,” she snaps, not able to suppress the words any longer. He looks up at her, eyebrow raised. 

“I-I mean,” she stammers, but he’s not listening. He’s scribbling something in his notebook.

Levy’s heartbeat heightens. Maybe-

“Here,” he says, pushing the notebook towards her. A bunch of ineligible letters- or numbers, she can’t tell- are scrawled on the thin blue lines. She grits her teeth and opens her mouth to snap at him again, but his gaze is again focused on his phone, and it’s obvious he’s not paying any attention. 

Her hands ball into fists.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I-I think that’s enough. Let’s call it a-”

She hasn’t even finished her sentence when she finds herself staring at an empty chair. Gajeel’s black hair drifts as he walks away.

The door to the library clicks quietly into place behind him.

She finds herself staring at the piles of paper in front of her. The figures swim in her head.

-

“And then he just walked away,” Levy says, plucking a blade of grass. Her food lies in front of her, uneaten. The field is speckled with picnicking students, taking advantage of the beautiful day. 

“He’s just shy, Lev,” Lucy comforts, patting Levy’s knee. Her blonde hair drifts in the gentle wind. 

Levy stares at her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she amends. “He’s a douchebag. But I think the best thing for you would be to struggle through it. Who knows? Maybe you two’ll-“

Levy groans loudly. “Don’t even go there, Luce.”

Lucy laughs and hugs her. She smells like strawberry yogurt. 

“You’ll find a way, Levy,” she whispers. “You always do.”


	6. Chapter 6

Levy rests her head against the frosted window.

Sunlight trickles in through the soft muslin curtain, caressing her toes. It snowed last night, so the entire neighbourhood looks as if it was sprinkled with icing sugar. 

She’s so glad that it’s Saturday.

Levy tucks her blanket tighter around herself and sighs. The remaining snowflakes drift across the window, casting shadows across her blanketed legs and wooden floor. Her room is small; all the walls are lined with bookshelves, colourful spines tucked tightly against each other. Her bed is pushed flush against the wall with the window, and if she reaches over, she can easily snatch a pencil off her desk. 

The papers of her notebook are creased against the sheets, smearing ink. The empty page stares up at her, and suddenly she’s thinking of Gajeel, of his sooty hair, of his dark eyes, of that sharp tang of metal that always clings to him-

Levy jumps as if electrocuted. 

I can’t go having thoughts like this, she thinks to herself, but-

The pen seems to beg to be pressed on to the page. Words overflow her brain, and she can think of a hundred ways to describe him, his hands, the thin scar that runs down the 

length of his thumb, the small half-moon birthmark right next to the nail on his ring finger-

“Damn it,” says Levy out loud, slamming her journal closed. “I need some coffee.”

-

The quiet in the library is thick.

Levy twines her fingers together, staring at the empty chair in front of her. It’s been eighteen minutes, and he’s still not here. 

The tiny numbers in the textbook swim before her eyes. 

-

“He didn’t show up?” 

Lucy’s indignant voice is sharp in Levy’s ears.

“It’s big deal, Luce-“ Levy tries to cut in, but Lucy’s chinks are stained pink and her fists are clenched.

“Talk to Mr. Dreyar,” Lucy says, grabbing Lucy’s hands in her own mittened ones. “You stayed at the library for thirty minutes; you had to walk home in the cold, you could have-”

“Lucy,” Levy says quietly, “Don’t worry. I’m going to. I just- I don’t blame him, you know? It’s math-”

The expression on Lucy’s face makes her laugh.


	7. Chapter 7

Levy’s hair whips around her as she waits.

It’s that awkward part of winter when everything’s a fuzzy grey, like static. The snow is no longer soft and powdery, but frozen peaks stained black and brown. The wind screams, pulling at her scarf, tugging at her mittens. Levy shuffles her feet and breathes onto her bare palms.

The sky is slowly turning a darker shade of blue, and she whispers pleas under her breath for the bus to hurry up. Her toes are starting to numb.

She pauses in place when she hears crunching behind her. 

Dark hair, white shirt, ripped jeans-

Scarred hands, empty eyes-

“G-Gajeel,” she stutters. She has to crane her neck to look up at him.

He’s not wearing a jacket. The biting air pulls at his ponytailed hair, but he doesn’t look cold. The smell of coffee and smoke overwhelms Levy’s senses.

“You didn’t show up today,” she says suddenly. He looks surprised that she’s capable of speaking, but quickly arranges his features into a more neutral expression.

“Hm.”

“That’s all you have to say? Hm?” She digs her fingernails into her palms, but she can barely feel it. They’re completely frozen.

Gajeel is watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

“I spent a good portion of my lunch sitting there for you. Not to mention the week before that. Do you care about anyone other than yourself? Did you think that I was the one who  
volunteered to tutor you? Well, news flash, pal- I didn’t.”

She breathes out, and realizes that her shrill voice had cut through the silence like a knife. Snow is starting to fall.

He stares at her, hands in pockets. 

“S-Sorry,” whispers Levy. She feels her cheeks flood red and tries to bury her face deeper into her scarf. 

She wants to bury herself into the snow bank and die.

“N-No,” he says.

Levy stops. 

“Y-You’re right,” he says. “It- It was a dick move. I just-”

He raises his hands as if grasping for something to say. 

“Speaking of dick moves,” Levy says, gaining confidence, “What about that time you pushed me? I dropped all my books and you just laughed.”

Gajeel stares at her. 

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, I tend to remember when people do shitty things to me,” spits Levy with unexpected venom. 

The silence following these words is thick.

Gajeel clears his throat.

“I- I’m s-”

A pair of heavy lights cut through the evening darkness, and the screeching of brakes. 

“That’s my bus,” Levy says quietly.

She raises a hand in farewell, and she can see from the reflection in the glass as she steps into the bus that he’s staring after her. 

-

The steam from her tea isn’t warming her hands at all.

Her homework sheets are scattered over her legs, and the cup is balanced carefully on top of her history textbook.

She pulls aside her muslin curtain. A new layer of snow fell, coating everything in icing sugar. The golden light from the lamps cast the buildings’ shadows onto the white canvas.

Her fingers are still slightly cold from standing out there, but for some reason, she doesn’t mind.


	8. Chapter 8

“So you’d just complete the square, right?”

Levy nods, twirling the pencil in her hands. The library’s not too busy today, so they don’t need to bother with hushed voices.

They meaning Gajeel and Levy, of course.

She watches him, his brow furrowed with concentration; the air is quiet between them, the only sound that of the pencil on paper.

“And then I’d find the maximum value by- Levy?”

She jumps, pencil slipping out of her hand, cheeks flooding red. He’s looking at her expectantly, calculator poised in hand.

“O- Oh. Right. Well, your max value is the value right outside the bracket, so you wouldn’t need to do any other operations t-to it to get it.”

She’s fully aware that she resembles a tomato from the heat in her cheeks. Gajeel raises an eyebrow but nods, head bowing back over his paper.

Levy breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Hey, I got it right,” he says, flipping to the back of the textbook where the answers are. There’s a gleam of triumph in his eyes.

“Nice,” smiles Levy. “I think that’s enough for today. You’re getting it.”

Gajeel grins at her. Her heart suddenly seizes in her chest. He’s all warmth and composed happiness, completely different from the moody stranger she’d been fighting with for weeks.

Her phone buzzes. It’s a text from Lucy.

_Levy, where are you? We’re waiting @ the coffee shop, respond ASAP!_

“Shoot,” Levy says aloud. Gajeel looks up.

“What’s the-”

“I promised my friends I’d eat with them at the cafe today,” she says, hurriedly sweeping her books into her bag, “and I completely forgot. I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to have to leave.”

She gathers her pens and pencils and stuffs them into the case.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes that Levy can’t detect.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll tell Mr. Dreyar that things are going okay.”

“Thanks,” Levy says. There’s an awkward silence, heavy and stifling.

She coughs, slings her bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll be going, then,” she says, raising a hand. He nods and goes back right to scribbling in his book.

-

The warm, coffee scented air is a blessed escape from the whipping winds outside.

The shop is almost empty, so she can easily catch sight of Lucy’s telltale blonde ponytail and Natsu’s messy pink locks at the corner table. She makes her way towards them, their heads bowed over steaming cups.

“I don’t know why she’s not here yet, she-”

“Boo!”

Levy claps her hands on Lucy’s shoulders, making her jump three feet in the air.

“Jesus, Levy, don’t do things like that!” she exclaims, pressing a hand to her chest. Natsu laughs and gives Levy a high five as she pulls up a chair beside them.

“Nice,” he chortles. “You should have seen your face, Luce.”

Lucy frowns, but her expression clears when she looks at Levy.

“I’m guessing the session wasn’t as bad today, was it,” she says, then claps her hands. “I’m so glad.”

“He wasn’t as insufferable, if that’s what you mean,” Levy corrects, pulling the menu towards her even though she already knows it by heart. Natsu sips his hot chocolate loudly, nearly dragging the white fabric of his scarf through the drink. Lucy tuts and slaps his hand.

“Is it that gigantic guy with the super long hair?” he asks, displaying a magnificent milk mustache.

Lucy and Levy nod.

“I want to fight him,” announces Natsu, and then dives back into the chocolate.

“He’s super scary,” Lucy says, shivering. “I don’t know how you tutor him without wanting to run away every five seconds, Lev.”

Trust me, I didn’t either, Levy says in her head.

“I’ll protect you, my Lady,” says Natsu, putting on a deep British accent to match his mustache.

Lucy’s cheeks flood pink and she slaps his arm. “Oh, shut up.”

It’s easy to see what’s going on- what has been going on- between these two. They fit so naturally, so perfectly, that hanging with the two of them sometimes makes Levy feel like  
an extra puzzle piece- no matter how many times you turn it, try to fit it in, it never sits as nicely as the other pieces.

“Aren’t you going to order a drink?” Natsu says, and Levy starts.

“Right,” she says, and raises a hand to beckon the waiter.


	9. Chapter 9

The mug is warm in Levy’s hands.

It’s another cold day, one that makes everything feel muted. Figures are bent against the wind, snowflakes tangling in hair and hats.

She takes a sip of her coffee, the warmth soothing her insides. The coffee shop is busy today, all brushing elbows and spilled tea. Levy’s headphones are tucked in, Bach’s bourrée in E minor echoing in her ears. She taps her fingers on the table, silently begging inspiration to come. Her notebook is lying in front of her, thin blue lines hungry for words.

“Damn this writer’s block,” she mutters under her breath, picking up her pencil and absently dragging it across the paper.

Someone puts their hand on Levy’s shoulder and she jumps, nearly spilling her coffee.

“What the-”

Her cheeks flush scarlet when she sees Gajeel standing behind her, a slightly bemused expression on his face.

“I-I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says tentatively, raising a hand as if trying to calm a deranged animal.

Levy takes a deep breath. “It’s fine. I- why don’t you take a seat?”

Right after she says this she realizes that she’s completely taken over the table; it’s covered with papers and her schoolbag, chocolate wrappers, empty packs of sugar and cream. She hastily drags her arm across it, cheeks heating.

Gajeel looks slightly taken aback but sits anyways, awkwardly folding his hands underneath the tablecloth. Levy yanks the headphones out of her ears.

“So,” she says, coughing.

He gestures towards the mess. “You come here often?”

“Often enough. It’s a nice place to write.”

“You write?” he says, raising his eyebrows.

“Why is that surprising?” replies Levy, sipping her coffee.

Gajeel snorts, Levy blushes, and they fall into a bout of stifling silence.

“I came to ask you a quick question,” says Gajeel suddenly, the words walking clumsily into each other. He reaches into the bag that’s beside him and pushes it onto the table.

“Math?” Levy says blankly, as if she’s never heard of such a thing.

“Yeah,” Gajeel says, throwing a pencil on top of the book. “I’ve been trying to solve this problem, but-”

“You came all the way to this shop to ask me for help? How did you even find me?” Levy laughs, pushing her mug away and opening the book.

“Shut up,” growls Gajeel. “I came here for a coffee a-and saw you. I just made the best of the situation.”

“You carry your math books with you everywhere?”

“I was studying at the library.”

Levy chortles despite herself. Gajeel growls again, his cheeks a shade darker than normal.

The time passes slowly, the sky beside them steadily getting darker. Soon the table is covered with empty mugs and slightly sticky sheets of paper, bags askew beside them.

Before they know it, it’s closing time.

“Whoa,” says Levy, pulling the curtain to look outside. It’s dark, the streetlights casting a golden glow on the peaks of snow.

“You taking the bus?” asks Gajeel, stuffing his books in his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Levy nods, tucking in her chair. The crowd is thinning, lights shutting, doors locking.

They leave the shop, bell tinkling behind them.

-

The cold wind ruffles Levy’s hair. She stuffs her hands into her pockets, shuffling in place.

It’s quiet again.

“T-thanks for the help,” coughs Gajeel, looking down at his scuffed sneakers.

Levy feels her cheeks turning that dreaded red again. “It’s no problem, I-”

“I have to go,” he says suddenly, jabbing his thumb in the opposite direction. “I-I’ll see you.”

Without waiting for a response he strides away, the snow flying behind him, leaving Levy staring at his retreating back.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun is finally out today. It peeks in from behind the blinds, casting rectangles of golden light on the desks and chairs.

The classroom is quiet, except for the steady sound of Mrs. Ur’s hand scratching out answers on the blackboard. It smells like ink and paper.

Levy feels at peace, for once.

“Alright, students,” says Mrs. Ur, dusting her hands. “Nice work this period. Make sure you finish reading chapters three and six of _The Scarlet Letter-_ ”

Her voice is drowned out by the sound of chairs pushing back and papers being hastily shoved in bags.

“-and don’t forget to answer the questions on page eighteen!”

Levy grins at her sympathetically as she passes, zipping her bag shut. She’s itching to get outside, to breathe in the cold air. She’s sick of being stuck in various cramped classrooms all day.

She’s yanking on her jacket impatiently when she feels someone tugging at her sleeve.

“Hey,” says Gajeel, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “I-I was wondering if you wanted to walk? Only if you’re going that way, of course, it’s not-”

“Yeah, of course,” Levy says. She yanks her bag higher up her shoulder and wills her cheeks to not turn pink.

They walk side by side, and Levy can see Gajeel trying to arrange his facial features into something that closer resembles a scowl.

“H-how’s your math going?” she asks, stuffing her hands into her pockets and squinting. The sun reflects sharply off the peaks of snow, making them glow.

 “Alright,” he says.

Silence.

“Y-you’ll be an expert in no time,” smiles Levy. “I think you’re really starting to get it!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” scoffs Gajeel. “It’ll be awhile until I can do the problems on my own.”

“You’re getting there!”

“Ah, shut up.”

Levy giggles despite herself, and Gajeel’s lips turn up at the corners.

They walk in silence for the rest of the way, the only sounds that of the cars passing by and the wind whistling through the bare branched trees.

She feels as if she’s being watched as they go, but when she turns around to look, there’s no one there.

“This is where I turn,” Levy says when they reach Gajeel’s bus stop. He nods, clears his throat, shuffles his feet awkwardly.

He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly turns away.

“Bye,” he mutters.

Levy, slightly confused, waves and walks on.

“Levy, you _bum!”_

A cloud of blonde hair obscures her vision, and she feels someone slam into her so hard she almost falls down.

“L-Lucy! W-what?”

Lucy grips her arm tightly, almost cutting off blood circulation. “You never told me you and Gajeel w-were an _item_!”

Her blue eyes sparkle with a mixture of amusement and betrayal.

“Were you following us all this time?” says Levy incredulously. Now that she thinks of it, she recalls seeing a blonde head peeking though hedges lining the sidewalk once or twice.  

“I saw you two leaving the school and had to do something,” she says defensively, patting her disheveled hair. “What if he was- was-”

“Luce, he would never try anything,” laughs Levy. “He’s just-”

“You know all about him now, don’t you,” Lucy says slyly, wiggling her eyebrows. Levy feels her cheeks go aflame with embarrassment.

“Oh, shut _up!_ ”

Lucy laughs and hugs Levy’s arm with two of her own.

“Oh, you dork, I love you so much.”


End file.
